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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26488630">Starting Again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_minnelli/pseuds/miss_minnelli'>miss_minnelli</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Human, Exes, First Kiss (after 15 years), Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, M/M, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Weddings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:21:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,296</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26488630</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_minnelli/pseuds/miss_minnelli</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley and Aziraphale finally find their way back to each other from across a massive chasm, or at least from across the street. </p><p>A retelling of Chapter 11 from gutsandglitter's Ink Blots and Forget-Me-Nots, from Crowley's point of view. Featuring lots of introspection, declarations, and a kiss overdue by fifteen years.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Ixnael’s Recommendations, Ixnael’s SFW corner</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Starting Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutsandglitter/gifts">gutsandglitter</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/19455634">Ink Blots and Forget-Me-Nots</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutsandglitter/pseuds/gutsandglitter">gutsandglitter</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I am very proud to present this piece, inspired by gutsandglitter's Ink Blots and Forget-Me-Nots. It is a retelling of Chapter 11, the penultimate chapter, from Crowley's point of view. </p><p>Do please read their work first! I cannot recommend it enough, not to mention the fact that it will make this make total sense. (You can read this without context, but a few things will seem a bit out of the blue.)</p><p>A huge thank you to gutsandglitter for letting me play in their fic-sandbox. It was a joy and an honor.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley didn’t know what he was doing, standing outside this giant white, flower-clad building at dusk that evening. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. He was there for a wedding, which he was somehow involved in. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t seem to know much about that either, except that it was one of those ruddy kids’ fault. Probably the loudest one, whom he’d begun referring to as the antichrist, but only in the privacy of his own mind. </p><p>Either way, he was here now, although that didn’t mean he actually had to go inside. Unless, of course...yes, that was the Them rushing down the stairs of the venue towards him, grinning like anything and jumping up and down. </p><p>“Mr. Crowley, you came!” cried the antichrist. Adam? Definitely Adam. Did the sight of these obnoxious bouncing children brighten his mood ever so slightly? Maybe. </p><p>“‘Course I did,” he grumbled, trying to keep his vision from tracking the movements of the children as they bobbed up and down. He didn’t need a headache today. “I was invited, didn’t have anything else on.”</p><p>This was a lie. Not the fact that he was invited, but the reason he currently wasn’t otherwise occupied. Anathema had invited him as what seemed like an afterthought (which, who could blame her? His only connection with her was through these bloody kids, and Aziraphale, he supposed) after he’d driven Newt to the hospital when he’d fainted in Crowley’s shop. Crowley had taken the invitation as an excuse to cancel a few appointments, though after he’d done so, he realized this now meant he had to attend a <em> wedding </em>.  </p><p>Bit of a sore subject, weddings. He’d only been to one wedding in the last fifteen years. Some cousin of his who only invited him to fill up a table probably. There’d been a bar, that much he remembered, but the rest of it was a blur and the feeling of love surrounding the entire ceremony had only served to pour salt in his ever-present wound. </p><p>But then, there was the fact that he could see Aziraphale if he went to the wedding. Which he, regrettably, wanted quite a bit. It wasn’t that he didn’t see Aziraphale at least twice a week, but usually he was annoying the florist with his presence, causing him to frown or pout or shoo him away. (Crowley had decided years ago, after it had become obvious that there was no hope for their future, that if his very existence was going to bother Aziraphale that much, then he might as well lean into it.) No, at the wedding he would get to see Aziraphale smile. Not at him, mind, but even catching a glimpse of that radiant grin would be worth all the fluffy nonsense he’d have to suffer through. </p><p>So there he was. Belatedly remembering the kids, Crowley spoke again, asking the first question that came to mind. “What are you all doing here anyway?” he asked. “Don’t you have school or something?” </p><p>Pepper gave him a look that almost, <em> almost </em> made him crack a smile. “It’s Saturday,” she said. </p><p>“We’re the ushers,” Wensleydale added enthusiastically. </p><p>Adam spoke again, clearly trying to steer the conversation in a certain direction. “We helped with the flower arrangements too. And I made you a button-ear, since I figured you wouldn’t already have one.” He held out the boutonniere which was made of forget-me-nots tied with white ribbon.</p><p>Crowley had the sense that Adam was trying to pull one over on him, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was. “Baby blue isn’t exactly one of my colors, kid. I’m more of an autumn,” he said, stalling. He didn’t really know why, but the antichrist seemed suspicious. </p><p>Adam gave Crowley a <em> very </em> innocent look, and Crowley knew he’d be putting that boutonniere on in moments. “But I made it for you. Mr. Fell has been teaching me, I thought you’d like it.”</p><p>Yup, Crowley was definitely losing this battle. And Adam had to go and bring up Aziraphale, which was just playing dirty, though he suspected Adam didn’t quite understand why throwing out <em> Mr. Fell’s </em> name would sway Crowley so easily. He groaned loudly in a show of annoyance. “Fine, fine.” He bent down and let Adam attach the boutonniere to his lapel. “Those puppy dog eyes of yours are a hell of a weapon, kid. I’d tell you to use your powers for good, but where’s the fun in that?”</p><p>Adam grinned. “Just don’t tell Mr. Fell I gave it to you, I sort of technically didn’t really ask if I could use those flowers from his private stash.”</p><p>Crowley smiled back at Adam’s skirting of the rules, though he was quickly knocked over the head by the knowledge that he was wearing some of Aziraphale’s personal flowers. Ones he’d taken extra care of, and didn’t sell to just anyone. It was the closest he’d probably ever be to Aziraphale and that thought cut deep. He tried to brush it off. “‘Atta boy. Don’t suppose you could direct me to the bar?”</p><p>“It’s not open yet. But if you come right this way, we’ll show you to your seat,” Brian said, using his most dignified grown-up voice. “Bride’s side or groom’s?”</p><p>Crowley decided he didn’t really give half a damn. “Surprise me.”</p><hr/><p>Crowley actually surprised <em> himself </em> by failing to tune out the ceremony, and found himself hanging on the officiant’s every word. He wasn’t sure why, really. It wasn’t as if he was particularly attached to Newt and Anathema’s love for each other, but he was thoroughly touched by their vows, and didn’t even look away in disgust as they sealed their new marriage with a kiss. </p><p>He definitely didn’t cry. </p><p>Maybe just a little. </p><p>Shut up. </p><p>Crowley had intended on spending most of the reception drinking and glancing subtly in Aziraphale’s direction, but unfortunately, he found his place card in a seat facing away from the dance floor, instead facing toward a wall. He was across the table from a very opinionated woman who had quite a lot to say about stocks and fortunes which, he learned, were distinctly tied to one another. The drinking he was able to accomplish, at least. </p><p>Being half-tipsy and having the great disadvantage of facing away from the dancing couples, Crowley didn’t notice Madame Tracy steering Aziraphale towards his table, and had no more than a second’s warning before he was being manhandled into Aziraphale’s arms. </p><p>“Crowley, be a dear and cut in for me.” Madam Tracy cooed. </p><p>And so there he was, right hand clasped in Aziraphale’s and left hand on his dance partner’s waist. Aziraphale looked positively shell-shocked: mouth hanging open, eyebrows trying to join forces with his hairline. Crowley didn’t take that as a good sign. Sure he was elated to be holding the man, but not when Aziraphale looked like he’d rather be waiting in the Bastille to get his head cut off. </p><p>Crowley realized they hadn’t moved a muscle for at least thirty seconds when the fortune telling woman’s voice floated over to them. </p><p>“Save the next dance for me, Mr. Crowley,” she said sweetly, and winked at them. </p><p>Panicking, because he couldn’t possibly listen to this woman chatter for any longer, let alone dance with her, Crowley pulled on Aziraphale’s tweed jacket at the waist and looked at him with his own brand of puppy dog eyes. It was a bit rude of him, he knew, but for the love of someone, they needed to move away from this table. “Er, it might be a while...”</p><p>Aziraphale got the message, wincing at Crowley’s pleading eyes. “Ah, yes. It’s been a while, we’ve got some catching up to do.”</p><p>Oh, if only that was what was about to happen. Crowley knew the moment they were out of that woman’s line of sight, Aziraphale was going to let go of his hand, stop touching his shoulder and leave him standing alone in this terribly romantic room, heart breaking just a little more. </p><p>They slowly started faking their way through a waltz, Crowley carefully avoiding Aziraphale’s missteps. Surprisingly, once they made it to the middle of the dance floor, Aziraphale didn’t take the lead and drop Crowley off somewhere like a hot potato. Instead, he let Crowley gently waltz them in a small circle. Crowley closed his eyes for a moment and steeled himself. What the hell were they going to talk about. He’d practically forgotten what to say to Aziraphale that wasn’t a loosely veiled insult or an aggressive flirtation. </p><p>Crowley realized, in the silence between them, that the DJ was playing “You Take My Breath Away.” Fucking perfect. It was their song, and Crowley hadn’t ever hated Queen this much before. He’d stopped listening to this song fifteen years ago and it hurt to hear it now. </p><p>“It was a lovely ceremony,” Aziraphale said, breaking their silence and allowing Crowley to tune out the music once more. </p><p>Crowley still felt so caught off guard by this whole situation, that he forgot to say something scathing, and actually doled out a compliment. “Suppose so. Flowers were nice.”</p><p>Aziraphale ducked his head a bit, clearly as surprised by the compliment as Crowley. “Oh. Ah, thank you. The dried lotus pods were a bit of an odd choice, but Anathema insisted upon them. I believe her exact words were ‘they’re gross and creepy and we have to have them.’”</p><p>“Sounds about right. Spooky kid, that one.”</p><p>“Oh, she’s a darling girl. Newton is a dear as well, I believe they’ll be very happy together.” Crowley simply grunted in response, so Aziraphale kept speaking. “Although I do believe this is the last time I play wedding planner. I daresay this whole thing’s taken years off my life.” Aziraphale laughed, but Crowley didn’t seem anything funny about that statement. </p><p>Something in Crowley’s chest snapped. Maybe it was the fact that the other man had said the “W” word, or maybe it was the way he spoke about the wedding, without acknowledging the one he and Crowley should have had.</p><p>He smiled cruelly, no regard for Aziraphale’s feelings, since his had just been unceremoniously, if accidentally, squashed. “Bit ironic thought, isn’t it? You ending up as a wedding planner, after everything.”</p><p>Aziraphale stopped moving, frozen to the spot. His bottom lip was quivering slightly and his hand had curled into a fist on Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley gritted his teeth and tried to convince himself not to feel sorry for what he’d said. He avoided eye contact, even though he was wearing his sunglasses. When Aziraphale spoke, Crowley was very grateful he’d looked away. He didn’t want to see the pain he was causing. </p><p>“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered, something catching in his throat, “Don’t.”</p><p>“Don’t what?” Crowley swallowed, looking purposefully at a bar stool in his line of sight. “Just making an observation.”</p><p>Aziraphale sucked in a laboured breath. “You know damn well how much that hurts me, why would you say it here?” He gestured to the event hall and Crowley noticed that there was now a wide berth around them as they argued. </p><p>Crowley wanted to say several things in return. Firstly, he wanted to scream. He wanted to yell at the top of his lungs about how much <em> he </em> was hurting, and he wanted Aziraphale to take responsibility for that pain (though he knew it wasn’t Aziraphale’s fault that he was holding closed a fifteen year-old gash in his heart with only a plaster.) Secondly, he wanted to apologise. Aziraphale made him all kinds of soppy inside, but that route was definitely out. If Aziraphale saw him as a jerk, then that’s what Crowley would give him. </p><p>“On this, the day of your daughter’s wedding?” he drawled, forcing a smirk and playing up his terrible Marlon Brando impression. </p><p>Through his glasses, Crowley could see Aziraphale’s eyes grow damp and he realized that that wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to go. Before he could say anything else or try to make peace, Aziraphale unclasped their hands and removed his fist from Crowley’s shoulder.</p><p>“You’re impossible,” he said, voice hoarse, and practically ran out of the room. </p><p>Perhaps that was how the conversation was <em> supposed </em> to end. They weren’t friends, they weren’t lovers, they were practically enemies. Perhaps Aziraphale was meant to run off crying and Crowley was meant to go home sad and alone. Crowley scuffed his shoe on the dance floor. “You’re impossible,” he muttered at no one. With a deep, renewed sadness hanging over him, Crowley stomped out of the event hall. He figured he’d go home and yell at his plants for a while. That always made him feel, well, if not better, then slightly less terrible. </p><p>He opened the front door of the venue and stopped for a second when he saw Aziraphale at the bottom of the stairs, clutching a garland. </p><p>Fuck.</p><p>Crowley set his teeth and stared straight ahead as he stomped down the stairs. “For the record, I wasn’t following you. Just going home.” </p><p>Aziraphale didn’t respond, and as Crowley marched down the stairs, he glanced at Aziraphale’s posture. He was practically cowering and he looked like a puppy that someone decided to kick all the way around the block. </p><p>Not Crowley’s problem. It wasn’t. He turned right when he reached the bottom of the stairs, but couldn’t bring himself to leave this man that he was unwaveringly in love with out in the cold, alone. </p><p>But what could he say? What words could possibly convey an apology as well as communicate his deep-rooted feelings of not being enough? How could he say,<em> I’m sorry I’ve been such a prick, you don’t deserve it </em> at the same time he was saying <em> God, I wanted to marry you so badly. Why wasn’t I enough for you to want to be brave?  </em></p><p>Crowley finally settled on, “It should have been us.”</p><p>“What?” came Aziraphale’s small voice from behind him.</p><p>Turning around, Crowley tried (and failed) to mask the pain he knew was written on his face. “It should. Have been. Us.”</p><p>Aziraphale looked beyond confused, as if that was the last thing he’d expected to come out of Crowley’s mouth, which it probably was. “What do you mean?” he asked, carefully. </p><p>Fuck, was he really doing this? </p><p>Crowley scowled at Aziraphale as he pretended not to catch Crowley’s meaning.</p><p>“You know damn well what I mean. That should’ve been us back there, with the sappy speeches and the drunk relatives and the happily ever afters. We should’ve been the lovesick idiots inside, slow-dancing to some godawful Celine Dion song, not the miserable bastards out in the cold.”</p><p>That was rather more than he’d intended on saying, but there it was. The miserable truth. </p><p>Aziraphale didn’t seem to appreciate this particular piece of honesty. “Crowley, please,” he said, voice laced with even more pain than back on the dance floor. </p><p>Crowley was done dealing with this. He was being brave here, and the least Aziraphale could do was get on his level. “Please what?” He threw his arms out wide. “Just stating a fact.”</p><p>Something seemed to burst inside Aziraphale because suddenly words started tumbling out of his mouth at the speed of light. </p><p>“Don’t you think I know that already?” Aziraphale snapped. He let go of the garland that he’d been clutching. “Don’t you think I know that would have been us, if I hadn’t been such a cowardly idiot? If I hadn’t been so stupid as to let you get away?”</p><p>Crowley opened and closed his mouth without saying anything. That was...not what he’d been expecting. He’d hoped, but hadn’t really had believed Azirphale would give him back anything of substance, but this, this was honesty, and it took his breath away, quite literally. </p><p>A moment passed as Crowley stopped himself from falling backwards onto his arse on the concrete sidewalk. </p><p>“You...what?” he finally managed.</p><p>Aziraphale continued as if Crowley hadn’t spoken. “And I know you delight in tormenting me, coming into the shop and serving as a constant reminder of the worst mistake of my life.” Aziraphale added, tears beginning to fall. “Admit it, whenever you see a piece of my post mixed in with yours it gives you a little thrill, knowing you can come and pour more salt in the wound-”</p><p>Crowley still could barely form any words. “What’re you-” </p><p>Aziraphale wasn’t finished. He was fully crying now. “But I’m not as strong as you, Crowley. I haven’t been able to move on like you have, and I suspect I never will. So please, stop. Just stop. Leave me be.” </p><p>“Oh for the love...You’re so clever. How can somebody as clever as you be so stupid.”</p><p>Crowley wanted nothing more than to wrap Aziraphale in a huge blanket and wipe away his tears, but he was frozen in place with his mouth hanging open. He had no idea how long he stood there, waiting for his limbs and lips to function again as Aziraphale turned away, sobbing. </p><p>Finally, finally, he regained control of his body, took off his sunglasses and strode over to Aziraphale. He gently turned him around, hands landing on Aziraphale’s shoulders and interrupting the florist’s strangled sobs. Crowley gazed into Aziraphale’s damp eyes for a long moment. </p><p>What he was about to say was something he’d never dreamed he’d be admitting to, not in a million years, but here he was. </p><p>“Aziraphale, for the past ten years I have been paying the postman to regularly slip me a piece of your mail by accident just so I’d have an excuse to come into the shop.”</p><p>Aziraphale didn’t seem to be getting it, confusion flashing across his face. “W-what? Why?” he asked.</p><p>This really wasn’t turning out to be the staggeringly beautiful love confession Crowley had dreamed he’d one day utter, but he was determined to make Aziraphale understand, to make him believe Crowley’s words, in any way necessary. </p><p>“First few years I was just waiting, figuring you’d come around eventually. Then I realized you weren’t going to, and things got kinda bad for a while. Think I slept through all of 2007 or so. Then finally I realized I couldn’t not have you in my life, even if you were just rolling your eyes at me and telling me to leave.” <em> But now, god, now I can’t possibly let you go again. I can’t be the reason for your tears. I want to be the reason for your happiness. Please. </em> </p><p>Aziraphale opened and closed his mouth a few times and for a moment, Crowley feared he was going to have to continue explaining himself, revealing more painful truths outside this damned wedding venue. But Aziraphale did manage to form a sentence after a few moments. </p><p>“But...But I broke your heart.”</p><p>The absolute devastation with which Aziraphale spoke revealed the truth bright and clear: Aziraphale still loved him. He wanted Crowley back, but he didn’t know that was an option. Slightly stunned by his (correct) assumption that Aziraphale had also been in pain all these years, Crowley dropped the tough guy act he’d been holding onto for fifteen years, and bared himself completely to Aziraphale.</p><p>“I mean, yeah. But it’s still yours, always has been. Angel,” and <em> oh </em> , did it feel wonderful to use the nickname without feigning malice behind it, “I meant it when I said you had me from <em> oh I gave away my coat </em> ,” he said, vaguely imitating Aziraphale’s voice. “You’re stuffy and uptight and can be more than a bit of a bastard sometimes but there will never, <em> ever </em> be anyone else for me. It’s you, and it will always be you,” Crowley finished. </p><p>Aziraphale still seemed unable to believe Crowley, and <em> fuck </em>, he was crying again. What else could Crowley say to convince this daft man that he was deeply in love with him, and always would be?</p><p>Managing to get his sobs under control, Aziraphale spoke again, tentatively trying to poke holes in Crowley’s reasoning. “But...but you always seemed so nonchalant. I thought you were over it, that you’d moved on.”</p><p>Crowley sighed. “Angel, you don’t just get over something like what we had. That’s some once-in-a-lifetime stuff. You know that, right?” He squeezed Aziraphale’s shoulders, trying to convey how deeply he felt without going too fast for his angel. </p><p>Aziraphale nodded. “I...I suppose I do.” And then, Aziraphale <em> touched </em> him. He lifted his hands up to cup Crowley’s elbows and stroked them gently. “Oh, my love, I’m so sorry,” he said after a few moments. </p><p>Crowley’s brain fully short-circuited at “my love.” Suddenly, he wasn’t much more than a kid again, and he was hearing those words for the first time, from the first man he’d ever loved, the only man he’d ever loved, even now. It took far too long to jolt his brain back to the present, and remind himself that this was happening <em> now </em>, but when he did, he slid into Aziraphale’s arms, giving him a tight hug. </p><p>Into Aziraphale’s curls, Crowley murmured, “Me too, angel. Me too.”</p><p>A few moments later, out of the corner of his eye, Crowley saw the venue door open, revealing a few wedding guests. He half expected Aziraphale to push him away and quickly explain to the intruders that they had only been sharing a brotherly embrace, but the florist stayed exactly where he was, and actually held onto Crowley even tighter. Crowley thought his heart might break all over again with that gesture. </p><p>After the people disappeared, Aziraphale drew back and looked into Crowley’s naked eyes, taking a deep breath. “Could we…” another breath, “Could we try again? I’d very much like for us to be...well, I’d like us to be an <em> us </em> again.”</p><p>Crowley had to sternly forbid his body from hyperventilating. This was the best moment of his life. He wasn’t going to ruin it by failing to breathe. His tone came out a bit strangled, but what else could he expect after failing to breathe for far longer than appropriate. “Angel, I want that too. Christ, you have no idea how much I want that. But if we, if we do that, I have to know it’s for real. I don’t think I could handle losing you again.”</p><p>Blast, now his eyes were watering. He made a mental note to swear Aziraphale to secrecy on that at a later date, but at the moment, he had far bigger fish to fry. </p><p>Aziraphale brought his hands to Crowley’s chest, smoothing his lapels and straightening his boutonniere. He paused a moment, staring at the flowers, and Crowley briefly wondered if Aziraphale had figured out that they were from his private stash. He decided it didn’t matter. If this conversation went the way Crowley was hoping, there’d be plenty of time to ask for forgiveness for stolen flowers. </p><p>“What if,” Aziraphale began, and Crowley could feel his heart jump up to his throat, “What if I answered your question?”</p><p>Crowley frowned, trying desperately to remember if he’d asked Aziraphale a question in the last fifteen minutes or so. He came up empty handed so he asked for clarification. </p><p>Aziraphale stared into Crowley’s eyes determinedly and spoke, despite his shaky voice. “The one you asked me fifteen years ago. I never did give you an answer.” He took a deep breath and clutched Crowley’s lapels for dear life. “If the offer still stands, my answer is yes.”</p><p>Immediately, Crowley knew what question Aziraphale was referring to. More than anything, Crowley wanted to throw himself down on one knee and ask the question again, and get a real answer this time. He wanted to be a real romantic bastard and propose in front of this huge building with all his acquaintances (friends) inside. But this moment wasn’t just <em> his </em> time to show his romanticism; it was <em> their </em> moment to come back together, and Crowley couldn’t begin their new life together by being anything other than a regular, snarky bastard.   </p><p>He grinned, keeping his voice light, making sure Aziraphale knew he was teasing. “Yes what, angel? Use your words.”</p><p>Aziraphale grinned back at him. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”</p><p>Crowley thought he might float away, but he couldn’t resist finishing the bit and teasing Aziraphale just a little more. “Hang on, who said anything about marriage? I distinctly remember asking you for a civil partnership. Marriage seems a bit fast, don’t you think?”</p><p>Aziraphale’s face looked like it might break, he was smiling so hard. “On the contrary darling,” <em> darling </em>, “I’d say it’s long overdue.”</p><p>Then he was kissing Crowley, and Crowley had to use muscles he didn’t know he possessed in order to keep himself from crumbling to the ground. That, and Aziraphale was still grabbing his lapels to steady them both. Crowley felt years of pain melt away at the touch of their lips. Aziraphale tasted the same as he had all those years ago, and it was glorious. </p><p>When their smiles grew too wide to continue kissing, Crowley peppered kisses all over Aziraphale’s face, grinning in between each one. And lord, Aziraphale’s hands in his hair felt like heaven. He thought perhaps he’d grow it out again. More hair for Aziraphale to run his fingers through. More dizzying pleasure for Crowley.</p><p>He kissed Aziraphale’s nose sweetly, and realized his eyes had become damp again. “Do I really get to marry you?”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled at Crowley, looking up at him through his eyelashes and nodding. “I take back what I said about not wanting to plan another wedding. I think I’ve got one more in me.”</p><p>Crowley giggled as he picked up Aziraphale and spun him around in a circle. He was going to <em> marry </em> this man. <em> Finally </em>.</p>
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